Section 27 - Stehekin to Manning Park, BC View Photos September 10 25 miles. The day off in Stehekin did my body a world of good. Other than a tender shin splint, I'm as good as slightly used. I spent yesterday relaxing by Lake Chelan in the picturesque hamlet of Stehekin. Stehekin has no stoplights, one satellite phone, a bakery but no grocery stores, a post office, and intermittent power from a local generator. Almost all supplies come in by boat from Chelan, some 50 miles away at the other end of the lake. The town is somewhere between rustic and wilderness and the locals like it that way. About 75 people live here all winter, surviving cold storms and short days with heat from wood stoves. Lake Chelan is a long, beautiful, glacier-carved lake. Its eastern end lies at the edge of the arid high plains of Eastern Washington. The western end probes the wet forests of the North Cascades. At Stehekin, the mountain walls rise 5,000 feet out of the water and ensure that roads will never pierce its perimeter. The edge of the lake freezes in the winter but the lake is much too deep to freeze over. The lake sits at 1200 feet but, at its deepest point, the lake floor is over 300 feet below sea level. Except for the lack of salt water, Lake Chelan is a fjord and Stehekin feels like a little slice of Norway. Stehekin has several places to stay including the North Cascades Lodge. The lodge was full when I arrived so I spent the night in the campground but I was fortunate to get a room for the second night. The lodge also serves breakfast and dinner buffet. I went 4 times and ate about 10 meals. Yesterday afternoon I met the Robinsons, a father and son hiking team from the Bay Area. "Traildad" started from I-80 above Lake Tahoe and Brian joined him at Crater Lake. Two years ago, Brian and his dad hiked together from Mexico to I-80 and then Brian continued on alone to Canada. Their on-line journal was a real inspiration to me and I felt like I already knew them even though we had just met. I left Stehekin via the 8:15 a.m. shuttle bus and returned to High Bridge for the continuation of the PCT. It was a warm, sunny day and a gentle 20-mile, 3,400-foot ascent up the Stehekin River and then Bridge Creek to North Cascades Highway and Rainy Pass. I crossed the highway just short of Rainy Pass to check out a PCT trailhead parking lot and found a note addressed to me. It said "Go for it!" and was signed by 3 dayhikers I met in Stehekin. I kept the note. I'm going to hold on to it for a long time. I ate dinner in the Rainy Pass parking lot and then climbed 2,000 feet to tonight's campsite on Cutthroat Pass. The temperature plummeted with the sun and I'm huddled in my bag watching my steamy breath in the flickering candlelight. It's too cold to keep writing. September 11 26 miles. It was crisp fall day with clear skies, bright sun, and 360 degree views from ridgelines that stretched to the horizon. The scenery is superb, the weather is beautiful, how could I ask for more? It was a very cold night. At 7 a.m. it was 23 degrees and that was likely not the low for the night. I shivered in my bag until the sun hit my tent and then I dragged myself into the cold morning air. Ice crystals an inch high pushed up through the alpine soil so that anywhere I stepped left a crunch and a iceprint. It was 8:30 before I finally left camp. I walked a long, very scenic ridge crossing Granite Pass and Methow Pass before dropping 2,500 feet to the Methow River valley. I passed several groups of backpackers out for the week or the weekend and the common topic was the good weather. You learn to appreciate the sun in Washington. I stopped for lunch in a meadow above the Methow River and soaked up the sun. The smell of fall was everywhere. Dead and dying plants--killed by the frosts--emitted that familiar musty odor that is synonymous with September. High above me, shady peaks still held snow from the recent storm and I wondered how long until the sunny reprieve gives way to winter snows. I left the valley via Brush Creek, climbed to Glacier Pass, and climbed again to an unnamed ridge 1,000 feet higher. I looked across at craggy Azurite Peak. Small glaciers clung to its slopes and small lakes hugged its base. I turned north again and followed a long, beautiful ridge that wrapped east around Tatie Peak and north again to Harts Pass. The high basins blazed with fall color from the small plants on the alpine tundra. As I traversed the ridge I could see peak after peak, valley after valley in all directions. It was national forest land but really deserves wilderness area distinction. I crossed Harts Pass and hiked on for another mile toward Slate Peak. I'm camped next to a small cluster of trees to get out of the wind that sprung up just as I got here. It feels warmer tonight and the forecast is for sun from now 'till Canada. I'm very fortunate to be here in such incredible weather. September 12 27 miles. Another spectacular day of ridge walking with blue sky, warm sun, and Canada on the horizon. I left camp by 8 a.m. and traversed a high ridge below Slate Peak. A doe and two fawns were on the trail ahead of me but I proved no match for their pace and they soon disappeared from view. To the west I saw Mt. Baker, the last of the Washington volcanoes. Mt. Baker set a world record for snowfall this last winter--almost 100 feet--and snow still covers the mountain and the surrounding peaks. Fortunately, the PCT passes well to the east of the highest peaks of the North Cascades and is shielded from such prodigious snowfall. After seeing the icy peaks today I understand why it would be impossible to route the trail along the true crest of the North Cascades. At Windy Pass, I crossed into the Paysayten Wilderness and walked more ridges before making the long, gradual descent to Holman Pass. From Holman Pass I climbed again to a beautiful high basin where I stopped for lunch in a meadow. I looked out across the valley to Shull Mtn. and then to Powder Mtn. that crowns the head of the valley. The green, yellow, and red meadow and the low-angled sun infused the air with an unforgettable glow. I climbed again to Rock Pass, descended to the headwaters of Rock Creek, and then climbed again to Woody Pass. From Woody Pass I saw the first peaks of Canada. The Cascades know no political boundary and continue north in a chain that extends all the way to Alaska. Fortunately, I'm not going that far. I made another long, ascending traverse with great views to peaks in both countries. A raptor, possibly an eagle, soared on mountain updrafts before plummeting to Earth to catch a meadow morsel. Arriving at the 7,000 feet crest of Lakeview Ridge I saw the valley that leads to the border and the end at Manning Park. I dropped my pack, ate a fig newton, and stared at the last 14 miles of this very long walk. It's hard to believe that I'll be there tomorrow morning. I'm camped tonight on Castle Pass, just 4 miles from the border. I could have walked on and made the border in the light but I'm saving the moment for the morning so I can meet Perry and then walk the last 7 miles with him to the welcoming party at Manning Park. Dana, John, and another hiker just walked by in the near dark--too excited to stop--and will walk on to the border tonight. Tomorrow will be a very special day. September 13 11 miles. Canada!!!!! It's over. The itch has been scratched, the dream fulfilled. I'm physically sore, mentally tired, but very, very happy to be on Canadian soil. 2,658 miles down, 0 miles to go. I slept in this morning. I was quite sure that Perry would make the 7-mile hike to the border from Manning Park and I didn't want to get there too early. I got up at 8 a.m., packed my gear for the last time, and headed down the trail at 8:15. It was a cold morning and frost covered the grass and low-lying shrubs. The trail lay in shadow but the mountains in Canada lit the way. An hour later I came down the last set of U.S. switchbacks to find Perry sitting by the trail. I started to yell but he jumped up and said "Stop! Wait 'till I turn on the video camera!" I froze for a moment until he said, "OK, go!" and then I whooped and hollered all way down into Canada. Perry brought me an "Oh, Henry" candy bar and I ate it while I signed the register at the border monument. To my right, a perfectly straight line of cleared trees ran due west, marking the U.S.-Canada border. Though it's one of the least guarded boundaries in the world, the line runs all the way across the continent. I finished the candy bar and, after a few pictures, we set off up the hill for the final walk to Manning. An hour later we paused to shed layers and drink water on the shoulder of Windy Joe Mountain. We looked south to the United States and I saw the ridge where yesterday I had stood and looked across into Canada. We set off again and soon crested the hill for the descent to Manning. Near the bottom of the hill, my friend Mike joined us and the 3 of us walked the last mile to the terminus at the Beaver Pond parking lot on Highway 3. I rounded a turn, saw Cynthia and rest of the welcoming party, and raised my arms in triumph as I took the last steps of this very long walk. I hugged Cynthia, her mom, Jane, and Jill and then popped a bottle of champagne. After 146 days, I was home. Let the celebration begin! I walked here alone but I didn't get here alone. I'm forever grateful to Cynthia and the other members of "Team Henry" for their constant love and support. Without their help it would have been a far more difficult task. The hike is over but the journal will go on. Stay tuned for an epilogue, notes on food and equipment, and pictures from the trail.